


Faith

by Cocobeam



Category: DRAMAtical Murder (Visual Novel), DRAMAtical Murder - All Media Types
Genre: Blood and Injury, M/M, Mentions of Blood Kink, Noiz's POV, POV First Person, Post-Scrap Noiz but it didn't quite work out, Violence, mild depictions of violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-12 08:49:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29007828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cocobeam/pseuds/Cocobeam
Summary: After Oval Tower, Aoba thought he successfully managed to Scrap Noiz, giving him back his ability to feel. However, it seems his intentions backfired.Written in Noiz's POV, set in Midorijima after the first game.
Relationships: Noiz/Seragaki Aoba
Kudos: 7





	Faith

The man’s fist connects to my chin, starting a process where pain receptors in my skin send a signal along my spinal cord until they reach my brain, or something like that. The end result is this: my face now fucking hurts. I wipe off the blood in my lips with a smile, regaining my position. The truth is, that man couldn’t lay a finger on me if I didn’t want him to. I don’t even remember why I got into this fight but riling someone up is incredibly easy. Especially pathetic people like this guy. I raise my bandaged fists, looking at him head on.

“…! You fucking bastard!” He shouts some stupid words at me, not that I care. We’re in the middle of a street of a back alley, yellow light of the lampposts illuminating us from above. People around us scream and starting dispersing in all directions. Some, however, seem very interested in our brawl, watching from afar and cheering. From inside small shops, faces appear to watch the entertainment.

I stay still, observing my opponent. He’s got some muscles to him, though he doesn’t seem that smart. He breathes hard, chest heaving up and down. His hands are still balled on a fist and he watches me with bloodshot eyes. In a moment, he charges at me, pulling gasps from the overly excited crown. I dodge his errant fist, punching him in the stomach and, while he’s curved up on himself, I bring my elbow down on the back of his head, quickly backing away after. The cheering group scream and howl, sounds of laughter mixed with shrieks of horror. My knuckles hurt from the impact; a tingling sensation remain in the elbow I used to strike the man. More than pain, it feels like a charge of electricity is passing through my body.

“... Now you’ve fucking done it.”

I feel the corner of my lips raise up, showing my teeth. I lick the corner where I was struck before. It has a faint taste of iron. “Bring it.”

One of the man’s eye twitches, a vein clearly visible in his forehead. He charges again as I raise my foot, aiming for his arm. Too bad for me, he blocks it and uses his free hand to spin me to the ground. I cushion my fall with my arms, to the disappointment of the dudes that have probably already placed their bets. My arms are heavy, but I manage to release myself from the man’s grasp, kicking his head with my other leg and leaping away from him, feeling my own head spin because of the too fast movement. He stands up with a growl, lunging after me.

If you’ve seen street fights, you know they don’t stay fancy for long. Pretty quickly, the situation devolved into a mess of punches and kicks. My vision is impaired by the blood that rushes down from underneath my bangs, but I’m making sure he also isn’t in a good shape. I stand my ground firmly and so does he. When before I could distinguish the many groups watching our scuffle, all the faces are now a single blur, the screams sounding distant. I take one step forward, taking a deep breath and slowly raising my fists. Everything slows down. We look at each other, and we know this will be our last struggle. We both jump at the same time sending our fists in the direction of our faces, not backing down a bit. Both of our blows hit the target. As my head swings to the side from the blunt force, I catch a glimpse of a worried face amidst the crowd.

“NOIZ!”

My head hits the ground, numbness spreading from the point of contact. Apparently, I fell a few seconds after my contender, because as sound returns to my world, I hear the louder group erupt in cries of joy and some frustrated groans. A strong taste of iron fills my mouth and I turn my head to spit on the ground, grinning to no one. Blue boots suddenly enter my field of vision.

“What were you doing...! You’re bruised all over!”

A shadowed face looks at me from above, the yellow light contrasting with light blue hair. His hands carefully touch my ribcage, asserting the overall damage. I feel sharp pangs everyone in my body, but his delicate touches warm up everywhere they stop by. He brushes away my wet hair, cleaning the already dried blood from my forehead. I can finally focus on his face, brows furrowed and pursed lips. I’ve seen this face more times than I can count. Even though I told him I don’t need it.

I stretch my bloody hand towards him, smudging it all across his beautiful face. I do it until I'm satisfied. He doesn’t seem to mind. Not anymore at least. His eyes are wet with tears; when they fall, it washes away the blood I so attentively painted on him.

“For now, let’s get you to somewhere I can treat you, alright?” Someone by his side says something I can’t really hear. His voice is the only thing ringing like clear water in my ears. “Is that okay? Then, could you help me bring it over there? I’m very grateful for your help” Another pair of hands grab me and pull me up, making way through the onlookers and bringing me to one of the nearby shops. Inside, I’m laid across a worn-out sofa, while he sits by my side and diligently starts cleaning the outer injuries.

I look at him, trying to talk through my eyes what I can’t express through words. It’s not your fault. You didn’t fail. This is how it was supposed to be from the start. I’m just broken. Always have been.

Please don’t leave me.

He looks at me with his best angry look. I think it just makes him look cute. He sniffles, shoulders trembling. He doesn’t say anything, but I’m sure he understands. He goes back to his work while I close my eyes, slipping away to my own world. The feel of his hands on my body lingers.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by The Weeknd's music "Faith". Noiz being addicted to sensations now that he can feel again could have gone the smutty direction, instead I present you... This. Hope you like it! ~


End file.
